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Life is a Game

The Project:

One Mustang directly off the range

One trainer

No tools

Just body language

The Goal:

To discover how far Equestrian Art can be developed solely using body language.

Life is a Game


Every once in a while I find I have become far too serious and I have forgotten life can be whatever I choose to make of it. I may not be able to control the world around me, but I certainly can decide how I want to respond to it. If I act as though life is a game, the results tend toward laughter, enthusiasm, and interest followed by a contented peace. If I think of it as work the resulting emotions tend toward tolerance, resignation, intense effort and exhaustion.

The horses also feel these things. They are horses not people, so it is different I am sure, but they do feel pure emotion of their own variety. How they feel about work versus play is clearly visible on their features and felt in their responses when you know what to look for. I believe most of us would rather be partners with horses who are enthusiastic and interested rather than tolerant and resigned.

So how do we make horse training a game instead of a job?

Myrnah and I are partners. When we work together I hope we bring out the best in each other. On those occasions that we don’t seem to bring out the best in each other, I ask myself: What do I need to do to make our time together more like a game and less like a job? How can I initiate interactions that are playful and fun? What do I need to do to find resting points that are peaceful for both of us together?

Asking questions has become one of the most important parts of this process with Myrnah. We are following a training process together that has no instruction manual. Our course is largely uncharted, so when I find myself adrift and not sure where to turn, I try to figure out what question I need to ask. Then I just wait. Life has a funny way of showing me just the experience I need to find the answer and the next step in our process.

Over the last few weeks Myrnah has learned to be so soft about yielding her hind end, turning towards me with ease when I drop my hand back on her belly to ask. Myrnah also has gotten very good at the specificity of standing next to a mounting block and allowing me to stand over her quietly.

The interesting part of the process now is getting on to ride. I’m not in a hurry- Myrnah is only three and largely pregnant. More weight on her back is probably not a comfortable thought for her. I am, however, very interested in the conversation she and I get to have ABOUT my getting on.

The first couple of times I got on, Myrnah was eating hay. She was unconcerned about my sitting on her back and also unengaged. What I would like to feel is that she actually wants me up there.

Now that she will easily sidle up to the mounting block, I can play with leaning on and off, advancing and retreating while watching her expressions and movements. Some days she is quiet letting me hang on her, and gently reaching around to nuzzle me. Other days she seems more irritated when she reaches around to check in with me and steps away quickly if I leave my weight on her for too long.

I am not sure how to make this more like a game she enjoys and less like a job she tolerates (or not); I just know my intuition is telling me play is the key. Somehow we need to make the process of riding a game she likes playing…..

I like the puzzle. The pieces fit together in a myriad of different ways, yet the end goal is always simply to have everyone as happy as possible.

Here is to life as a game!

Elsa Sinclair

EquineClarity.com

No Boundaries – Just Trust

The Project:

One Mustang directly off the range

One trainer

No tools

Just body language

 

The Goal:

To discover how far Equestrian Art can be developed solely using body language.

 

 

 

No Boundaries – Just Trust

Myrnah and I walked out the gate and past all the fences yesterday; we have reached that point of trust in each other, and it feels amazing. We walked out of the paddock, through the front yard, and down the drive to the edge of the property: no fences between us and the rest of the world, no boundaries – just trust. Myrnah could have run away, but she didn’t. At the end of our driveway she looked longingly down the road, but acquiesced when I told her it was time to head home again- that was far enough for our fist venture beyond the fences.

Trust has to be earned. All of us intrinsically need to feel safe. When Myrnah and Cleo first came home with me, trust was built between us in small incremental steps. As a human I am a natural predator; horses are natural prey animals and as such we have very different instincts. Prey animals have a tendency to run from fear; predators have a tendency to attack and control when faced with fear. If we are going to work together, we have to build trust in a way that allows us to act like partners instead of predators and prey.

Boundaries such as ropes or fences help us predators feel in control of prey animals; the lack of boundaries makes a horse feel safer, because they can run if they need to.

Living as I do in a small island community where horses would not be welcome wandering free wherever they chose, I have to use fences to control them. It is a very predator-type thing to do, so I have done my best to make the paddock as big as possible and always give them room to run away from me when we are working together.

In the beginning we had six-foot-high fences. Once the trust between us had built to a point that lowered the intensity of their desire to flee, we moved things around and the fences are closer to four feet now. A little while later the horses trusted us enough to stay in enclosures of a single electric line.

If the fear is high enough, horses will jump or run through almost anything. If a human’s fear is high enough, we will enclose and abuse horses in an effort to feel safe around them. Written like that it seems rather obvious neither tactic is in the best interest of a functioning partnership. Yet going against our natural instincts is a constant challenge.

Trust is built with time and understanding. The ability to make requests of each other and have those requests honored is what builds trust.

Simple things illustrate this well. Humans like to pet animals. Horses don’t naturally like being petted (though domestic horses often do because they have been taught). A wild mustang enjoys being groomed by a partner, but being petted by a not entirely trusted predator is different.

For a partnership to develop, the human can request permission to pet the horse and, if allowed, respect when the horse requests the petting action to stop. Now if the horse reaches out with their nose and asks the person to stop and the request is ignored, the horse resorts to instinct and walks away. This is a very quiet example of distrust instead of partnership. In order for trust to build, requests have to be heard and honored between partners.

That is a great deal harder than it sounds. As people we like petting and it is hard for us to remember horses may be asking for something different. The next time a horse moves away from you, ask yourself what might the horse have wanted? What was he asking for that you didn’t hear? Sometimes the horse is asking that you follow when they walk away, because being together like a herd feels safe. Usually though, I find they are first asking us to be quiet. Just exist and be quiet together. As the saying goes, “be a human being, not a human doing”.

As a human, when a horse walks away we want to control it with a rope, or trap it with a fence, or chase it so it knows that is “wrong” or stand back and take it personally that the horse doesn’t want to be with us. If we can think like a horse though and follow, playing with advance and retreat as a game like a horse would, until the trust is built on understanding the horse’s request for a herd in that moment, then we are back on track to building a strong mutual trust, and it’s our turn to make a request. Asking the horse to move, or asking him to let us pet him, the important part is to listen for when he thinks it is his turn to ask us for something.

Mutual respect of requests is the basis for mutual trust.

So when Myrnah and I began to go out walking, we started with a boundary of high fences. If the fledgling trust between us should have plummeted in its first flights, the boundary fence would have kept us together somewhat. I aimed for a balance: fences intact to keep my predator instinct feeling safe, fences far enough away to allow Myrnah her prey animal instinct to flee should she need it.

As time moved on and the trust grew, the boundary fences became smaller and farther way. Yesterday our trust allowed us to let go of the boundary altogether for a short period of time. The freedom of knowing there were no fences to catch Myrnah if she ran was simply exhilarating. Although we are so bonded now, that I never doubted her. I think she and I agree, exploring the world is most fun, with someone you trust.

No boundaries – just trust – is an ever evolving concept. Yesterday was just a milestone along the way. Here is to the many more ahead of us.

Elsa Sinclair

EquineClarity.com

Fear and Curiosity

The Project:

One Mustang directly off the range, One trainer, No tools, Just body language

The Goal:

To discover how far Equestrian Art can be developed solely using body language.

Fear and Curiosity

The dictionary describes Curiosity as “a strong desire to know or learn something.” Fear is described as “an unpleasant emotion caused by the belief that someone or something is dangerous, likely to cause pain, or a threat.” I would like to present the idea that a highly functioning individual will have a tendency to tackle fears with curiosity, leading them to learn about the subject until it no longer causes unpleasant emotion. Fear and Curiosity may well be linked in a beautiful cause and effect. While fear is an emotion most would rather avoid, curiosity is one of the most enjoyable emotions to be experienced.

While I was with Myrnah today the wind was whipping wildly, trees violently throwing themselves in every direction, leaves and branches swirling, crashing, and falling gracelessly to the ground. I felt like a mad woman to be out working with my horses regardless of the weather, yet there we were.

We took our work out into the front yard today. The tarp on the large stack of firewood was flapping on one side, the cat chose to accompany us hither and yon, and the noise of stormy weather was often disconcerting. I was impressed that Myrnah chose to come out the gate with me none the less.

I put my hand on her withers and told her to lead the way, take me wherever she would like to go. Today was about exploring. Today was about confidence, curiosity and bravery.

Through the narrow gap between the porch and the house where Myrnah tends to scoot past at the trot, every few steps I would ask her to back a step and wait. Giving her thinking brain a chance to work and her flight instincts a chance to settle. Then on we would go. Success! For the first time we made it all the way past the car with no panic and flight from claustrophobia. Causing her to back up a step gave her a moment to look left and right, to be curious about the tight space, the car and the porch, instead of simply running from it.

In that situation Myrnah’s fear is high and curiosity is a weak fledgling emotion, so I didn’t ask her to stand any longer than she chose to. The back-up merely reminded her that curiosity was an option. When she chose to look hard at her surroundings, ears pricked and neck arched, I was still and quiet, breathing deep and relaxed as I allowed and supported her desire to understand the tight space. We stood still together until she was ready to move again, then we would repeat it all a few steps later.

Working with a young horse in particular, the world is new, experiences are all fresh, and fear and curiosity hang in a balance. While Myrnah seems like an old soul at times, and appears more mature than domestic horses her age, I want to remember, she is only three-years old. The time I invest now, fostering and developing her curiosity while allowing the reflexive patterns of fear to weaken and fade away is worth the investment a hundred times over.

So when she chooses to take me out on a walk, around the front yard, and into the woods we have never traveled through before, between the car and porch, between the bin full of hoses and shed full of hay racks, past the flapping tarp, while leaving her companion Cleo behind and out of sight on the other side of the house- just Myrnah and I exploring the world together. When this exploration causes Myrnah to stop short, ears pricked, body tight, eyes hard and focused, I stop with her and just breathe. That is the moment when curiosity and fear are in a battle: fear says it is too dangerous to go on, curiosity wants to pay attention and focus in to understand the world.

If I rush the moment, pushing Myrnah on, she may be brave and lean on my confidence, but I rob her of the moment to build her own curiosity and self-confidence. If I wait, Myrnah’s curiosity will bloom, and each time it does her self-confidence in the world around her will become a little stronger.

Yes, sometimes I want to be impatient and just get a horse going, and sometimes it is a useful skill for the horse to lean on their rider’s confidence instead of needing their own in a particular moment. Right now, in this project, with Myrnah so young and so much life ahead of her, I prefer to invest the time- no rush. On a day like today, every time a tarp flaps, or the cat runs by, or a branch crashes to the ground in the woods, I choose to use those moments to be still as I watch fear develop into curiosity for Myrnah.

The key is the willingness to be still and pay attention. Curiosity will bloom if you give it the time and the focus.

All of Myrnah’s basic skills with me continue to progress, going forward and backward, yielding the forehand, and even yielding the hind-end. All those basic skills can often help build curiosity. Fear leads to flight, so when I feel Myrnah pulling away from something- to flee from what she doesn’t understand- I can suggest a turn, or a back up to give her a moment to realize she has a choice. She can choose to learn, or she can choose to run. Both are valid; learning is just more fun than fear.

If I can help Myrnah know she has a choice and build her habits of curiosity instead of fear, I feel I have done well. Everything we do together is only better on a basis of self-confidence.

To wind and wild weather, to fear and curiosity, and to the quiet moments that allow us to become the best of ourselves.

 

Elsa Sinclair

EquineClarity.com

Training Versus Development

The Project:

One Mustang directly off the range, One trainer, No tools, Just body language

The Goal:

To discover how far Equestrian Art can be developed solely using body language.

Training Versus Development

My recognized job title might be that of “Horse Trainer”; my business cards read “Equine Development Specialist”. Are they different or one in the same? The last week has me thinking…. training versus development, what’s the difference?

Here is what I think. Training is building a set of habits or skills in a time frame. Development is setting up the environment to allow growth at ones own rate and speed.

Training conforms the trainee to what we think they should be. Development allows them the freedom to be whatever they are fostering and encouraging the best they can be.

Training follows a predictable path of cause and effect creating results; development is an organic evolutionary process where the positive results are often dramatic and surprising.

What I do is somewhere in the middle. I feel that the grey area between training and development gives me the best of both worlds. Wherever safety might be an issue, I tend toward the predictability of training. Where I want that inexplicably beautiful connection and bond with my horse, I lean toward a developmental process.

With Myrnah, in this project with no tools, I have an opportunity to lean a little farther into development instead of training. Without her full participation in the process I am lost. She has to want to do everything I want to do, because I don’t have any tools to push her into doing things she would rather not.

Last week I fell more into a training routine when I pushed harder than usual to try to get the hind end yield. When I realized I felt I had missed a step in our process, I then felt we SHOULD have been able to do it by now. Without the training tools on hand to help me threaten her into submission, Myrnah kicked at me under that kind of pressure. Then when safety felt at stake, I maxed out the tools I did have to re-engaged her: running around clapping my hands, yelling…. and then getting quiet when she came to me with her ears forward again. Simple cause and effect: pressure to make the unwanted action unpleasant, release to make the wanted action pleasant.

Training has a time frame in mind and an idea of what the horse should know by now (such as not to kick at me or threaten my safety). The advantage of that method is the predictable results to pressure and release, and the horse seeming to know “wrong from right.” The disadvantage is the beast-of-burden, dull attitude that can occur in any of us when we feel like we should be different than we are. All of us want to be unconditionally loved and appreciated and we cannot really be the best of ourselves when we are told we are not good enough constantly. Horses are no different from people in that respect.

So what might last Wednesday have looked like if I had taken the developmental approach?

First off, when Myrnah started pinning her ears at me in the specificity exercise, I would have slowed way down, spent more time in advance and retreat, spent more time being playful and affirmative, and been less attached to specificity happening any time soon.

Secondly, once I realized the step I had missed, the hind end yield, I would have spent more time quiet and still with my hand on her side, waiting for her to choose her response to my presence, giving her all the time in the world to decide she wanted to yield and work with me, making sure I released my focus and appreciated her the moment our connection and cooperation got stronger.

Thirdly, if she had kicked at me, and I was in a developmental frame of mind, I wouldn’t have let fear dictate my response. Fear caused me to be desperate about getting our cooperative connection back in a hurry. If I hadn’t been afraid of getting hurt or losing out connection, I would have just stepped out of the way and backed off, playing with the gentle intensity of drive and draw just like we did in the beginning of our relationship to bring our connection back and start over.

It’s all about time really. There is a brilliance in each of us that blooms with focus, attention, love, devotion and plenty of time. Under the pressure of a limited time frame, we can get a lot done and feel good about our competence, but the question remains: Is the immediate competency worth the brilliance we sacrifice in the process?

I gave myself a year to train Myrnah without tools. A dear friend said she wished I wouldn’t put a time limit on this process, and I think I now understand her sentiments. None the less as a horse trainer, and an equine development specialist, for my own education, I want to feel the pressure of a time limit. I want to see how close to a developmental process I can keep us in spite of a time frame. Nothing is black and white. Life is shades of grey between extremes. For me seeing the extremes helps me figure out where I would like to stand in the middle ground.

Training versus development is a thought-provoking contrast. While the world might ask me to train horses on a time frame, and I would like to think I am good at it I also hope to get so good at the developmental processes that people see it, and want it and will start to value the brilliance of connection above and beyond physical competence in the moment. Myrnah is here to help me strengthen my skills of development.

So here is to the unique, the surprising and the inexplicable connection between horse and rider. May I have the fortitude and patience to wait for it, nurture it, and encourage it in every way.

Elsa Sinclair

EquineClarity.com

For all who were wondering, Cleo continues to be an amazing horse. Her powers of focus and her desire to connect make working with her a brilliant experience every day. Every time her tension drops another notch and she seems a little more comfortable in her life, I feel like I have just won the lottery. Its a slightly different process than Myrnah’s but I still do my best to keep the ideas of training versus development clear in my thoughts as we progress. Thank you Cleo for continuing to be such a wonderful teacher.

Specificity and skipped steps

The Project:

One Mustang directly off the range, One trainer, No tools, Just body language

The Goal:

To discover how far Equestrian Art can be developed solely using body language.

 

Specificity and skipped steps

 

It seems Myrnah and I have reached a step in the process that is not as graceful as all the previous steps have been. Specificity is proving to be more difficult for us than anything we have done yet. I don’t know if I am excited by the challenge, or disappointed in myself for not setting up the course of learning better. A little of both I think.

 

Last week was all about traveling together, developing our ease and relaxation in movement. Myrnah more or less got to choose where we traveled; I just asked her to keep moving. Everything Myrnah and I have done together so far has had a large element of choice on her part. If I wanted to trim her hooves, I let her decide where she wanted to stand to have them done; and, if she changed her mind, I picked up my trimming tools, followed her to the new spot, and started again. If I asked her to turn, I wasn’t too particular about where we were headed so long as she yielded the direction asked. If I asked her to back up and she turned around in the process, that was fine too, so long as she stepped back for me. We were building a basis of communication, and I wanted all the pieces to feel easy. Little by little she became more accurate in her responses and I was thrilled.

This week I set up a pattern to build specificity. Walking together, rest in movement, the gate open between the woods and the arena, Myrnah could take me wherever she liked. New addition to the game: I added a couple of tires, double-stacked in the arena. If Myrnah was interested in investigating them, we could stop and rest there; everywhere else we needed to keep moving.

 

The idea is to teach Myrnah to sidle up to something (like a stack of tires) to let me get on. The first step in that is to get her to be interested in something tall that I can stand on. It worked like a charm and pretty soon those tires were like a magnet- the only place she wanted to be.

 

From the first step of investigating the tires to get a rest from perpetual movement, we built to my standing on the tires while we both took a break. Then on Wednesday I started getting specific; Myrnah needed to put her side to the tires before we could both relax. As soon as she was in position, I would sit down and take some time to just be still with her.

 

Getting Myrnah in exactly the right spot beside the tires was challenging for her. Anything so specific is new to us, and she didn’t want to do it. While I was happy to give it up and go walking instead, she didn’t want to do that either. She wanted to just rest at the tires in any position she chose, and so Myrnah started pinning her ears at me.

 

This is where I think there is a balance to be struck. “Confidence-in-one’s-self” and “confidence-in-others” need to be in balance. Myrnah has a great deal of natural self-confidence. When her confidence in me is lacking, it is easy for her to start being angry. Wednesday she had a perfectly good idea of what we should do together: (standing relaxed at the stacked tires) My idea of alternating walking and standing at a specific spot next to the tires seemed like a terrible idea to her. Too much confidence in herself and not enough in me lead to some angry gestures.

 

I am generally intolerant of anger, so I jumped right on it, and thought, what do I do with my other horses to build their confidence in leadership? I work on our yields: front-end, back-end, and sideways. Myrnah’s front-end yields are soft and easy; her back-end yields are relatively undeveloped. Back-end yields are something I kept putting off until our bond felt stronger. Well obviously here was a gap in her education and a missed step in the process.

 

What happened when I went to push her hind end away from me Wednesday? She told me NO. I pushed harder and she showed me she had feet to kick me with… hmmm, pushing harder obviously wasn’t going to get me anywhere I wanted to go. (and yes I was thinking all this would be so much easier if I had rope right now and could just make her do it).

 

So take a deep breath and break it down. We take a walk and then I play with gently putting my hand at the back of her belly to suggest she just look toward me with her nose. If her nose tips toward me, her hip will at least energetically yield, even if it isn’t physically apparent. The problem is she won’t even do that.  On this day a hand on the side of her belly puts Myrnah into a strong opposition reflex, sending me running out of the kick zone. So I yell and jump up and down and clap my hands and run in circles driving her nose away from me until she looks at me with curiosity, and comes back with her ears forward. Then I sit on the ground, breathing hard, and wishing I hadn’t put off this step in the training. Breath caught, we try it again.

 

Sometimes, if I get my tact just right her nose comes toward me when I place a hand on the back of her belly, and I quickly reward that by moving my hand onto her withers and simply walking with her. Sometimes my tact is off, (or hers is), and I get the opposition of her hind end suddenly thrown in my direction; then I have to resort to acting like a crazy person, running around, moving her front end away from me until she musters up the positivity to look at me and ask what in the world I am doing, and wouldn’t it be nicer if we both stopped and just hung out together. ( I always say yes to that)

 

A horse’s confidence in others is based on their respect and their respect is based on their willingness to yield physical space. Willingness equals a positive attitude. When Myrnah started showing aggression, I knew her confidences were getting out of balance and we needed to build a little more respect and confidence in me, her person, and hopefully her leader.

 

I wish I had spent more time teaching her to yield her hind end earlier in the game. Without rope or stick I wasn’t sure I could, but now I see it is a critical piece that is fundamental to later progress.

 

On the up side, Myrnah’s extreme opposition prompted my own desperate measures, which caused her to look at me in a new and curious frame of mind. Her ear pinning seems to be melting away, her specificity of standing exactly at the mounting block has improved dramatically, and her offers of focus, arc and softness in her body while we walk together are so beautiful they make me want to cry.

So thank you to the exercise of specificity for showing me our missed step in the process. I love everything I am learning through this, even if I don’t always get it right the first time.

Elsa Sinclair

EquineClarity.com

Rest in Movement

The Project:

One Mustang directly off the range, One trainer, No tools, Just body language

The Goal:

To discover how far Equestrian Art can be developed solely using body language.

Rest in Movement

It sounds like a contradiction, rest in movement, yet I think it is contradictions like this that make us feel alive. Last week I talked about draw and drive, using those concepts to build a connection between partners. I believe it is the combination of two contrary ideas that is often a powerful force of creation. Draw and drive bond horse and rider to each other in a way that feels magical, yet, when looked at closely, we find it can in fact be understood and built logically one step at a time.

Rest in movement is another one of those apparent contradictions that seem to bring power and grace into life. As of this week Myrnah is not sure she agrees, though I do jest a little here. In reality Myrnah continues to amaze me with how gracefully she moves forward to the next step in our process, time and time again.

In training horses we work with the idea of pressure and release to cause growth and development. When Myrnah and Cleo were first with me, in order for them to feel release, I needed to turn my body away, take my eyes off of them, and maybe even sit down on the ground and be very still- all pressure released in an obvious way. To add pressure all I needed to do was stare directly at them; that seemed to be all it took for them to feel the need to respond. As time went on and they became more confident, I was able to release pressure simply by becoming still and quiet with them, wherever I was already standing. Putting pressure on sometimes required my walking over and causing them to take a step in some direction they wouldn’t have chosen on their own, in order for them to think about me.

Up until this week I have felt I needed to follow Myrnah’s lead letting her dictate how much of any one task she felt ready to do. I wanted her to feel that working with me was easy, with releases of pressure simple to ask for. All she needed to do was reach over and touch me with her nose to ask for a break and it was readily given. Slowly, over time, I was able to ask her to keep moving through a task, past her request for a break, helping her build a stronger work ethic. If I pushed too far I could see her get frustrated; she would start to bite at me and pin her ears, letting me know she needed more release.

This week we had a breakthrough. We went out in the woods for a walk and I had the thought that Myrnah was ready for more. So, instead of letting her just wander from one bite of fern to another, I asked her to keep walking. Every time she tried to stop I asked her to move- anywhere she wanted to go, just continual movement. Interestingly, she didn’t seem to get frustrated, or ask me quit the game by reaching around to touch me; she just kept trying to stop where she wanted, and then patiently walked on when I asked. Occasionally she would take me back to the paddock gate, and I would gently push her away; she would circle round to face it again, and I would gently push her away again. Sometime it would take eight, nine, ten circles before she would take me out into the woods again. We walked for 20 minutes that day, and by the end Myrnah was starting to develop a rhythm and an easy swing to her walk. As long as she kept moving, I was quiet and peaceful, simply walking alongside her, my hand on her withers and my feet in time with hers- no pressure, just the two of us resting in movement.

 

The next day we took the rest in movement idea out the other side of the paddock into the front yard where there is lots of grass to eat. That indeed proved much more challenging. It is hard to keep moving when there is a buffet underfoot calling Myrnah’s name with every stride. I again was thoroughly impressed that she didn’t get frustrated with me; she simply pitted her perseverance against mine and gently and slowly came around to my way of thinking. When Myrnah finally was brave enough to walk us through the narrow path between the garden and the car, taking us to a new area above the pond, I chose that moment to stop, take the pressure off, and let her graze for awhile. Rest in movement is a new skill for us; rest while grazing is an established release and reward. When a horse offers me a supreme effort of bravery or focus, I do my best to let them know I fully appreciate it.

The interesting side effect to this rest in movement practice is the affection I get afterward, as both Myrnah and Cleo surprise me with the dramatic increase of nuzzling and focused appreciative contact. I don’t know whether they are thanking me for the simple relaxation that movement brings, or the dominant role I take on by moving them that allows them feel safe and part of my herd, or something else all together.

Whatever the reason, rest in movement seems to have fallen into place perfectly as the next obvious step, and I couldn’t be more pleased with the results.

 

Elsa Sinclair

EquineClarity.com

Sharing the Journey

The Project:

One Mustang directly off the range, One trainer, No tools, Just body language

The Goal:

To discover how far Equestrian Art can be developed solely using body language.

 

Sharing the Journey

 

When I was a child horses allowed me to be bigger, stronger, and faster than I was on my own two feet. They swept me into a world where anything was possible. They shared their journey through time and space with me and lent me a sense of power in life.

 

To this day, horses still give me all of that and so much more. In the beginning horses were a physical thrill and that physical thrill fed me mentally and emotionally. As I grew, training horses became a mental thrill, learning about cause and effect, building a partnership between horse and rider systematically. Now in this project, challenging me to a year of training without tools, I find my emotions are being fed directly in a way I have never before experienced.

I sit here watching the print course along the page as I struggle to illustrate with words this visceral and personal experience. I am not sure how it is this project seems to use my mind and my body to shape the course of events while tapping more directly into the emotions at the core of my existence. I can tell you the physical steps I take, I can tell you the mental processes that accompany the physical steps, yet I don’t know how to describe the emotional component that comes from the connection between horse and human.

 

I do know, however intangible it is to explain, people feel it powerfully when they get the chance. Perhaps not exactly what I feel, but something profound none the less. Each time I introduce someone new to the Mustangs, I am apprehensive that what I do is too subtle and slow to be of interest to anyone other than myself.

 

Nothing ventured nothing gained, so I take a deep breath and put it out there, walking each person who comes to visit through the physical steps of drive and draw, approach and retreat, walking them through the mental understanding of building trust and connection with a horse. Then I stand back and marvel as the emotional connection between horse and human sparks and all of a sudden this isn’t just about me and my journey with Myrnah. This is a journey shared.

 

I don’t know how to explain the feeling of intensity, being an integral part of a horse’s breakthrough from fear to confidence. I don’t know how to explain how time evaporates and before we know it, hours have gone by in the blink of an eye. I don’t know why it is so emotionally touching to feel that bond, that trust and that connection with an animal so recently wild and so new to the world of people.

 

I marvel that I can share this experience with other people. Myrnah and Cleo are willing to reach out to the friends I bring to visit with them, willing to meet, converse, and show each person attention and devotion, offering communication and connection.

 

It’s so simple and so powerful.

 

I know I could spend more time with the Mustangs drilling cues and specific responses, riding patterns and creating machine-like perfection of movement. I also know that doesn’t affect anyone in the deep way this more inexplicable feeling of connection does.

 

I sat on Myrnah again on Monday- it was lovely and yet somehow also felt beside the point. It felt like Myrnah was unconcerned but also unengaged as though there may be a few more things we need to do before she is ready to completely bond and connect with me riding. This isn’t about how many tasks we can do together; it is more about how engaged and interested I can encourage Myrnah to be about doing those tasks with me. It’s about how the two of us feel as we do whatever we are going to do together.

 

Myrnah and I are sharing this journey with each other, and also with the world. To anyone who might be interested in tasting this inexplicable feeling of connection, I want to put it out there that it is possible, and achievable, and simpler than you might expect. You just need to learn to read the signs along the way.

 

 

 

Elsa Sinclair

EquineClarity.com

First Ride On Myrnah!

The Project:

One Mustang directly off the range

One trainer

No tools

Just body language

The Goal:

To discover how far Equestrian Art can be developed solely using body language.

 

First Ride On Myrnah

As life with Myrnah seems to be, this week was both unassuming and life changing all at the same time. Long story short: I took my first ride on Myrnah and I am flying high about this next step in the journey.

The details are more modest and quiet than the headline would lead you to believe. I love that dichotomy of quiet unassuming details gathering together for results that seem bigger than the sum of their parts.

Tuesday morning Margaret was here to do some filming for me. Myrnah and I went through our routine of grooming, basic yielding, and walking together. We went out the gate of the paddock into the woods to explore, and, when she found the bucket with a little bit of hay in it, I noticed there was a rock right next to us. It wasn’t planned, it just made sense to step up on it and belly over her back while she nibbled bits of hay. This moment in itself is monumental because, as recently as a week ago, Myrnah would have been irritated with me for distracting her from eating. Tuesday Myrnah didn’t mind at all.

I got off and on several times- just bellied over, my full weight on her for far longer than ever before. Myrnah stayed unconcerned, so I threw a leg over her back and used the rock to push me up astride. One leg on either side, I laid on her neck, relaxed, peaceful, feeling her breath, listening to her chew, watching carefully for any signs she might like me to get off. After awhile I decided I had pushed far enough into new experiences and got off to resume my more customary position next to her.

When she finished eating, Myrnah took me on far more exploration of the woods than ever before. Showing confidence and exuberance, she sometimes picked up the trot and let me run alongside her, seemingly just for the joy of doing so.

We were out for hour more or less, before she took me back to the gate, then to the trailer letting me know she had had enough exploration and would like to go have breakfast. I like this routine we have created. At some point we will take this pattern and apply it to traveling to other places to explore. Myrnah loves the trailer as it is where she gets to eat the rich, Eastern-Washington hay. One of these mornings, when we feel ready, I will let her in the trailer, close the door, and take her somewhere new to explore together- somewhere fenced where she can’t get in trouble with traffic or danger, yet somewhere that isn’t home. We will travel around side by side or riding and explore the world, returning to the trailer for the remainder of breakfast whenever she is ready, and make the return trip home.

Until then we will continue exploring more parts of the woods close to home, continue developing her confidence carrying me, and continue honing her trust to let me direct her speed and direction with increasing accuracy.

Beyond the simple dictates of essential training I have begun to widen Myrnah and Cleo’s social context, expanding their trust in humans beyond myself, and giving a few wonderful friends the chance to walk through the steps of earning trust and feeling connection with recently wild horses.

I also put a new horse in with them for the first time this week. Lir, a two-year-old Gypsy horse was a perfect first domestic companion for them to know, even-tempered, respectful, and easygoing even in the presence of horses less so. I was there with them for the first few hours, sending Cleo or Myrnah away from Lir and me when they showed any aggression, allowing them to be close with us when they remained polite. I understand horses will work things out as they need to in a herd; I also need them to understand that aggression has no place anywhere around people. When people are present all communication needs to remain polite.

Cleo seemed to understand me completely right away. I only saw her coil for one kick at Lir. I sent her away and after that she was the model of civility when I was around. Even when I was on the other side of the paddock she might be standing next to Lir, reach out to touch him, and then look over to me quickly to make sure I was OK with that, then reach out again commencing a game of touching each other with their noses- a game that looked surprisingly similar to the games I play accustoming Cleo to being touched by me.

Myrnah was not so convinced Lir was a good addition. Time and again she would approach and then pin her ears, bare her teeth, and charge. When I was there, I would send her away. She would move a few feet off, look at me and then walk to a different spot in the paddock, as though she hadn’t a care in the world. I know she ran Lir around the paddocks some when I wasn’t there to enforce civility, but after a few days they had formed some sort of truce and would pass each other like two ships in the night, carefully avoiding aggravating each other.

Lir left on Monday to go to his other home on Orcas. The Mustangs are again on their own for a little while. Soon another companion will come up for them to get to know as winter is fast approaching and dry spaces to live are in high demand here. Hopefully, by the time spring is on the horizon, before the foal is imminent, Myrnah and Cleo will be out in a pasture bonding with the larger family of horses who will be family to the new little one.

I don’t know what it is about mile stones that makes me want to look ahead in anticipation of future mile stones. First ride on Myrnah this week, just ten weeks from being wild on the range. When the other miles stones will fall into place only time will tell.

I will keep you posted,

Elsa Sinclair

EquineClarity.com

The Fear of Losing Control

The Project:

One Mustang directly off the range, One trainer, No tools, Just body language

The Goal:

To discover how far Equestrian Art can be developed solely using body language.

The Fear of Losing Control

The beautiful thing about training Myrnah as I am, using no tools of force, is my illusions of control are limited right from the start. I recognize that I cannot control her any more than I do at any given moment because I have no tools to force her to obedience. Whatever leadership I have in this partnership I have to earn. If she is not willing to give me control of her direction or speed, I have to break the training down to the simplest pieces, developing her trust enough that she feels content to have me in the leadership role.

If I walk through this relationship knowing she has full right to take back control of her speed and direction at any time two things happen: One, I take care to develop strong habitual patterns of her following my leadership, never challenging her so much that she loses trust. Two, I am less likely to be scared of losing control when I accept I only deserve whatever control she feels safe enough to give me. I can’t be afraid of losing something I know is only on loan so long as she trusts me.

Without tools to force Myrnah into situations she would choose to avoid, I believe we will ultimately feel more reliably and consistently safe than the usual horse and rider partnership. Before we take that walk out into the woods, both of us have to agree it is a good idea. Once we have agreed, there is less likelihood that fear will interrupt our progress.

From my observations, both people and horses get into trouble when they think they deserve to have more control of a situation than they actually have. As a rider I expect to be able to go, stop and turn my horse, at any time. A horse often thinks pretty much the same thing about their rider. The art of training a horse, develops the horses desire to be part of a team. Horses need to learn to give up their control without fear of being unsafe. People need to learn to develop control of the horse without causing fear in either their horse or themselves.

As soon as fear steps into the game rationality starts fading away. If I give up my control of a situation, will I still be safe? Will I get hurt? Can I trust someone else to make the decisions for me in this situation? If I think anything bad might happen, there is no way I want to give up my control of speed and direction, neither does the horse. We are at an impasse, using more and more force to try to gain enough control in the partnership to feel safe.

So last week I wrote about what Myrnah and I do when we reach an impasse. I am happy to report it is going beautifully. Little by little she is allowing me more and more control of speed and direction on our walks through the woods. She is once again willing to put up with the boredom of having her feet handled and trimmed, trusting me to get through it and move on to something more fun soon. That trust is something we have to keep building and honing to a useful point.

Myrnah has to trust me that boredom and claustrophobia don’t last forever, she has to trust me that I will have more interesting things to do with her after tasks that are tedious, she has to trust me to take her away from food and know I will bring her back to food again soon. That last one is probably the hardest lesson we have together. Coming from a place of being pregnant where food was scarce it is hard for her to trust me there will always be enough even if she can’t consume it right away. Yet proving that to her again and again I feel is a powerful tool to bond us together.

Myrnah and I are making such simple slow and steady progress I find I am amazed to think we may be ready to ride sometime in the next few weeks. Her back is starting to look more muscled, and she trusts me enough to let me jump up with my arms braced on the other side of her withers, holding myself there, feet hanging a foot off the ground for a few seconds before I slide back down to earth.

I dream of galloping flat out with Myrnah through the pastures, baby alongside us, her trust in me allowing enough control that we both feel safe. I don’t know how long it will take to build that sort of relationship, but I do know I want to find out.

One Horse, One Trainer, One Year, No Tools, how far can we get? Is it possible for us to train together without fear of losing control?

Here’s to finding out.

Elsa Sinclair

EquineClarity.com

Wherever there is a No, there has to be a Yes nearby

The Project:

One Mustang directly off the range

One trainer

No tools

Just body language

The Goal:

To discover how far Equestrian Art can be developed solely using body language.

Wherever there is a No, there has to be a Yes nearby


This week Myrnah got confident. Confident enough to say no to me. That makes me smile, and also check my watch. These dialogs take time. When a horse tells me no in response to a request, I can do one of three things: I can make their life uncomfortable until I get a yes, or I can just look for where the yes naturally is, working gracefully back to my original request from a better perspective, or some combination of those ideas.

Myrnah and I started the week taking walks together outside the paddock. Beyond the high fenced area is a larger woods paddock fenced only by a single strand of dark green electric fence. The feeling of freedom is enhanced by the lack of visual fencing. Yet I have enough confidence in Myrnah’s respect for that electric line to know we will not wander too far astray in these first forays outside.

Myrnah hesitated at the narrow gate. Once outside, I put my hand on her withers and shadowed her movements, the two of us exploring the world together, side by side. There were little bits of grass to nibble and terrain to be investigated. The only limits I set were about the grass directly under the hot wire. She needed to adjust to my directing her at least a small amount of the time, and because I didn’t want her getting shocked by accident, those seemed like good spots to put off limits. When we got close to the fence I would use my hand on the side of her neck to turn her around as much as it took to head her away from the fence again. Interestingly, once there were a few spots off limits, those were the only places she wanted to go.

When I had her faced away from the fence, she would say no, she didn’t want to walk in that direction. So I looked for the yes. In this case, the yes was standing quietly, my arm draped over her back, my ribs against hers breathing softly together. It could be seen as a standoff; it could also be seen as an opportunity to practice being together, being still, being patient.
There are many times I would like my horse to be still and patient while I talk to a friend, or teach a lesson, or fix a piece of broken fence. If Myrnah wanted to practice that in this particular moment, I was prepared revel in the yes, while thinking about how to change the no gracefully in the future.

The next time out, Myrnah was slightly more exploratory, but after forty-five minutes got stuck in a battle of wills with me about the grass under the electric fence again. If I wasn’t going to let her eat under the fence, she wasn’t going to take me exploring around the woods anymore either. We again took the opportunity to practice stillness and patience for a while, finishing our time together by letting her follow me back into the main paddock and into the trailer for her breakfast hay. The following day I put a bucket with a few bites of timothy hay out in the woods for her to find in her explorations and I stuck a few brushes in my pocket. The bucket was fun for her to find as she was worried about it being in a strange place, and then she was happy finding she liked eating what was inside. When we would reach an impasse where she didn’t want to explore, and I wouldn’t let her graze the spot she wanted, the yes we could agree on was being still together, only this time I added grooming to our still times.

It was a great session… except for the end when I thought I would ask her to take me back into the paddock with me at her withers instead of me walking ahead of her. Myrnah said no, she liked being the one to pick the direction of travel when I was walking at her side. I can tell her where she is NOT going, letting her decide where she IS going from the array of other choices. However, our relationship is not evolved enough for me to tell her where we are going specifically, unless I am actually in front. So in this particular instance I settled for being able to tell her which direction to face, then, after an appropriate amount of time being still and enjoying each other’s company, I took the lead and let her follow me back into the paddock. It’s nice to know we have skills to fall back on, when the new skills are still in their developmental infancy.

So Myrnah decided all these exploratory walks were the new fun game. When I went to trim her hooves on Tuesday she again said no. Every time I ran a hand down her leg she started walking away, taking me to the gate, patiently letting me know she didn’t want to do hooves anymore- she just wanted to go out walking. Again I looked for the yes. If she wanted to walk, me too, walking together is an excellent game to practice. We didn’t take it out the gate, just in random patterns through the paddock- practicing turning and walking over and over until she offered a stop. When she did I would run my hand down her leg and we were off again. Forty-five minutes later she heaved a sigh and stood still and patient for me to trim all four feet. It takes time, but it’s worth it when I feel her make the decision to work with me, not because she has to, just because she has decided life is better this way. Luckily I still had time to take her outside the paddock after her hoof trim to end our session with the explorations she seems to be enjoying so.

Interestingly, Cleo is also letting me trim her front hooves with no halter or lead on, much more readily and quietly than Myrnah this week. It’s kind of nice to have them switch roles, with Cleo being easy and Myrnah making me work for the relationship this week.

They keep me thinking and I like that. Wherever there is a No, there has to be a Yes nearby.

Elsa Sinclair

EquineClarity.com